Stiles’s hand flew up to his forehead. He bent over like he’d been sucker punched in the stomach. “What happened to him? Did he fall? Why didn’t you call nine-one-one?”
“Hold up. See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not going to be the one to get blamed for this. You and your wife know I just came back on duty today.” Ms. Edna peered at Detria. Detria had turned a shade darker and looked like she was in shock. “I’ve already written up my report,” said Ms. Edna, “and I’ve called my supervisor and left a message on his answering machine.”
Stiles and Detria stood and looked at the large black and purplish bruises on Pastor’s thigh. It was so bad the skin was almost broken.
“I suggest you get him to a doctor right away. If he didn’t fall, then I’m afraid to think that somebody did this on purpose.”
“No. How could this have happened without anyone knowing about it or seeing it?” Stiles said. “Did you call Ms. Tammy and ask her about this?” asked Stiles.
Ms. Edna looked at him with eyes ablaze. “That woman wouldn’t hurt a fly. And yes, I did call her. She don’t know nothing about it. She said she must have been on the opposite side of the bruise when she changed him. I believe her, but then again, something happened to this poor soul,” Ms. Edna ranted and shook her head from side to side. “Lord, have mercy.”
Detria remained still and speechless. When she finally spoke up, her voice was calm and steady. “Pastor probably fell out of the bed. I know I’ve caught him trying to get up by himself when he knows he can’t,” she said in a less-than-tender voice. “Pastor, you’re going to have to behave yourself. You don’t want to be strapped down to the bed, do you?” she asked him.
Pastor groaned.
“There’ll be no such thing, Pastor.” Stiles slightly recoiled. “Pastor, did you fall?”
Pastor’s eyes seemed to shift away from his son’s. “Did one of the aides do this to you? The therapists? My God, tell me what happened to you,” Stiles yelled.
“Well, I’m getting out of here. And I’m going to be truthful with you,” the nurse said. “I won’t come back. I can’t afford to be part of this kind of thing. Much as I love working here, I won’t put myself in the midst of wrong. My supervisor should be calling y’all in the morning. They’re probably going to want to do a full-scale investigation on this. Good night.”
Detria walked the woman to the door. “I am so sorry about this,” Detria told her. “But I’m glad you told my husband that he should consider a nursing facility.”
“He should. Honey, that man has a long recovery ahead of him. And with bruises like that on his leg, I’m afraid to tell you what I think has been happening to him. But I know I’ve seen abuse of elderly people too many times. Now I know he isn’t considered old, but he might as well be because he can’t talk. He can barely move, and he sure can’t care for himself. Honey, you’re going to wear yourself down if you try to do what a full-time staff needs to be doing. I stand behind my suggestion that he be placed where he’ll have access to help twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
Detria opened the front door. “Thank you, Ms. Edna. Maybe my husband will take heed to what you said.” Detria placed her forehead in her hand. “I hate to see my father-in-law like that. He just lost his wife less than two years ago, and that really took something out of him. I thought if he came and lived with us, things would get better, but then he had the stroke. This is his third one.”
“Child, you’re a good one. I know you want to please your husband. But ain’t nothing but tension and division coming in this home if that poor man has to stay here. You can’t do it alone, and neither can your husband. And he’s the pastor of a church, too. Come on, that’s like having two or three jobs.”
“You really do understand, don’t you?” Detria said.
“Yes, I sure do. I’ve been in this line of work for seventeen years, and I’ve seen it all. Well, I need to get home. I wish y’all luck. Good night, Mrs. Graham.”
“Good night, Ms. Edna. Be careful,” Detria said and then closed the door. After she locked the door, she returned to Pastor’s room, where Stiles had remained. She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her head against his back.
Stiles remained silent for several moments. “How could this have happened?” He rested his head inside his hands. His strained voice was a dead giveaway that he was crying. “Who would want to do such a terrible thing to another human being?” Stiles reached over and grabbed hold of Pastor’s trembling hand. “Pastor, I’m so sorry this happened.”
Detria moved around next to Stiles. “Honey, we don’t know what happened yet. Wait until he sees his doctor. I’ll call first thing tomorrow morning and see about getting him in, even if they have to work us in. But I think Pastor has been trying to get out of bed by himself and probably fell as a result. I don’t believe anyone would intentionally hurt him, let alone strike him.”
Stiles looked at her with dazed eyes. “There is no way Pastor tried to get out of the bed, fell, and then manage to pull himself up and get back in the bed. He’d have even worse injuries than he has already, and they wouldn’t be concentrated in one area of his body. These bruises are in a place we wouldn’t normally see when he has on his clothing. I mean, other than the aides who come in here, you’re the only one who cleans and changes his soiled clothing.” Stiles shook his head and bit his bottom lip. “I swear, and Lord forgive me for swearing, but I’m not going to rest until I find out what happened to you, Pastor.” Stiles’s voice rang with tenderness as he looked down on his father. He turned swiftly, and in a pained voice he directed his question toward Detria. “Which one of them is so evil and sick-minded that they’ve been beating my father?”
Detria tried to conceal her nervousness. Was she evil? Sick is what Stiles called the person. Lord, maybe he’s right. Maybe I am evil. But then again, what about how this man ruined my life? I lost my child because of Pastor. “Is there anything I can get you? Some cocoa, tea, anything?” Detria asked in an effort to redirect Stiles’s thoughts, if only for a moment. “Honey.” She rubbed him up and down along his back. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I know we will.”
The following morning, Stiles’s suspicions had been confirmed. Pastor’s doctor was highly concerned after he examined and x-rayed Pastor. He didn’t hesitate to share his displeasure with Stiles and Detria.
“I don’t like this at all. His injuries are definitely not from a fall,” the doctor explained. “First of all, Pastor Graham doesn’t have the strength to get up out of his bed without substantial assistance. And if he did, I believe he more than likely would have sustained more serious, multiple injuries rather than a concentrated injury. The X-ray showed heavy bruising. Nothing is broken. But the bruises on his thigh should have been reported by whoever takes care of him. Seeing that nothing has been done until now to help him, it’s my professional opinion that someone has been abusing your father.” The doctor raised both hands and shrugged. “It’s sad, but it’s true.”
Stiles stood abruptly and rubbed his hand back and forth over his head of black hair. “Doctor, how is he doing? Is the injury bad?” Stiles asked. Detria remained seated and quiet.
“He’ll be all right, if that’s what you’re asking. But he’s been taking some hard licks, that’s for sure. Some of the bruising looks like it happened weeks ago. There’s another area that’s a fresh bruise. I think I’d like to admit him to the hospital just to keep watch over him for the next twenty-four hours. I’m going to start him on some intravenous antibiotics to ward off infection plus some pain medication. He can barely move that left leg now because of the pain and stiffness. This doesn’t help his condition at all.”
“My Lord,” Stiles said. “I don’t know what to say.”
The doctor remained quiet, but peeked over his glasses at Stiles and then toward Detria.
“I’m stunned,” Detria remarked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Graham, it�
��s my duty to report this to Adult Protective Services. I also need the name and contact information of the home health agency that provides services for your father. They need to be made aware of this as well. I’m sure they’ll want to do an investigation.”
“Sure. No problem,” Stiles said. “Detria, do you have the name and number with you?”
“Yes. It’s in my cell phone.” Detria retrieved her phone from her purse and began to scroll through it. “Do you have something I can write the information on?” she questioned the doctor.
“Yes.” He pulled a notepad and a pen from his white jacket. Stiles reached for it and passed it to her.
“Thank you,” Detria said. She walked over to the small table in the examination room and began to write. When she finished, she passed everything to the doctor.
The doctor focused his attention back on Pastor. “Pastor Graham, we’re going to send you to the hospital. Just for overnight observation, okay?” Pastor nodded his head slightly. “Can you tell me if someone’s been hitting on you?”
Pastor didn’t budge. Stiles walked over to the examination table. “Pastor, tell me. Who did this to you?” he pleaded.
Pastor groaned, but no intelligible words came forth.
Detria walked up. “Pastor, you have to tell us what happened. Can you write it down for us?”
Pastor stared at her; then he looked at Stiles.
“Look, don’t worry about it right now. The hospital ambulance will be here any minute to transport you. I’ll stop by later tonight to see you,” the doctor told him. “Mr. Graham, we’ll be in touch. And I think you need to act on this pretty quickly to find out what’s going on. Unfortunately, elderly abuse is rising. It makes for a sad day when I see this kind of maltreatment against another human being.”
“No doubt. Thank you again, Doctor.” Stiles and the doctor shook hands. Detria remained still and quiet.
The ambulance transported Pastor to the hospital, and Stiles and Detria trailed behind.
“Detria, you haven’t noticed those bruises on Pastor?”
Detria sighed heavily. “No, well, I mean, I may have seen them, but I didn’t think it was from someone beating on him, for goodness’ sakes. He took a pretty bad fall when he had the stroke. He was banged up pretty badly then, so I thought they were residuals of his fall.”
“Detria, that was two months ago.” Stiles hit his hand on the steering wheel. It was seldom that Detria saw Stiles angry. “You should have said something.”
“Oh, so now this is my fault? Is that what you’re saying? Look, I know you’re upset. I am, too, but do not make this out to be my fault. I hate that he’s bruised and battered just as much as you do. I can’t take this much more.”
Stiles jerked his head and looked over at Detria. She appeared to be almost hugging the passenger door. “Take what?” he yelled. “I ask you a simple question, and you get all worked up. My father has been beaten. Do you understand that? It had to be one of the caregivers who did this to him. He can’t talk, so I’m going to talk for him. If you have a problem with that, then tough.”
Detria folded her arms and turned away from Stiles’s glare. “You need to watch where you’re going before you hit somebody,” she told him as she looked out the window.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got this. What I don’t get is your sudden attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude. I just don’t like the fact that you’re insinuating that I should have seen the bruises on Pastor and immediately known what happened. I’m a nutritionist, not a nurse or doctor,” she snapped.
Stiles turned into the hospital parking garage. His BlackBerry rang while he was driving around the garage in search of an available parking space. “Hello,” he said. He remained quiet for several moments. “Hold on, please. I need to write this down.” He pulled into a parking space and turned off his ignition. He reached for a piece of paper in his console and an ink pen, then began to write down what the person on the other end told him. “Thank you so much. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I’m going to check on my father, and then I have to head to Dyersburg Regional Medical Center. That was one of the members from Francesca’s church,” he said to Detria.
Detria opened the door and got out of the car. “What’s going on? Something wrong with Francesca?”
“She was rushed to the hospital earlier today.”
“What happened?”
“The man on the phone said she had been complaining about flu-like symptoms for the past few days. He went to her apartment to take her something to eat. He said when he got there, she was still complaining about feeling weak and feverish. While he was there, she fainted, and that’s when he called nine-one-one. She was admitted to the hospital.”
Stiles walked toward the hospital entrance, and Detria tried to keep up with his fast pace.
“Hold up, will you?” she told him.
Stiles stopped and waited for her to catch up. “Look, I don’t mean to sound like I’m blaming you for anything. It’s just that this thing with Pastor is getting to me. Now my sister is in intensive care? Lord.” Stiles looked up toward the ever-darkening sky. “We need you, Father. We need you.” He placed his arm around Detria’s shoulder, and they walked inside the hospital. They stopped at the information desk and asked the receptionist to look up the number of the room where Pastor would be taken.
Stiles and Detria remained at Pastor’s bedside for the next half hour while nurses moved in and out of his hospital room. Once Stiles was assured that everything was being done to make Pastor comfortable, he prepared to leave the hospital and drive to Dyersburg.
“Pastor, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning,” Stiles told him. “Everything will be fine. I’ll see to that. I’m going to find out who’s been doing this to you. Do you hear me?”
Pastor didn’t open his eyes, nor did he respond. The pain medication the nurse gave him must have taken effect quickly. Stiles heard Pastor’s labored breathing when he leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. He gently rubbed his father’s arm.
“Come on,” he turned around and said to Detria, who was seated in one of the chairs in Pastor’s room. “I need to get you back to the house,” he whispered.
Detria stood and silently followed Stiles. When they were in the hallway, Detria remarked, “I’m going with you to see about Francesca.”
“No, I need to go alone. There’s no telling how long I’m going to be there because I don’t know what’s going on. It’ll be better if one of us remained in Memphis to be here for Pastor.”
Detria sighed. “I guess you raise a valid point. I hope Francesca is all right.”
“Me too, Detria. Me too.” He grabbed hold of Detria’s hand, and they walked to the car.
The drive home was relatively quiet except for the sound of gospel music playing on the radio.
When Stiles pulled up in front of their house, he leaned over and kissed Detria. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” he told her and pushed the remote to open the garage.
“You aren’t going to come inside to at least get a sandwich and something to drink? It’s been a long day.”
“I know, but I’ll be fine. I’ll stop somewhere and grab a burger or something. I really need to get up there, so I don’t want to waste any more time.”
“Okay, have it your way. But call me, Stiles. Don’t have me sitting here worried about you, too,” she emphasized.
“Don’t worry. I’ll call. G’night, baby. Try to get some rest. You have work tomorrow, too, so I know you need to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Yeah, well, let me get inside.” She got out of the car and disappeared behind the entryway to their home. Once behind the closed door and in the safety of her home, Detria broke down. She leaned, trembling, against the door and slid down to the floor as she covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “What am I going to do? Oh, God, somebody help me, please.”
Chapter 13
&nb
sp; In time of sickness the soul collects itself anew.
— Latin Proverb
A forecasted thunderstorm slowed Stiles’s road trip to Dyersburg Regional Medical Center. Giant pellets of rain and nickel-sized balls of hail pounded the car while lightning skipped across the sky. The sound of thunder reverberated through the air like a mortar round. Stiles drove through Ripley, Tennessee. The streets were almost vacant of other vehicles. The paved highway glistened like black diamonds, and the absence of lights on the road made the dark skies more pronounced.
Stiles tried to remain focused on the road, but the fierce thunderstorm and now the sound of his cell phone ringing provided an unwanted distraction.
He pressed the talk button on his steering wheel. “Hello,” Stiles said. The caller on the other end was Jones.
“Hey, why didn’t you tell me what was going on, man? Detria called Crystal and told her about Pastor and Francesca. You know I would have made that trip with you.”
“Yeah, I know it, man. But everything happened so quickly,” Stiles said. “Now I’m in the middle of a bad thunderstorm. I’m about thirty minutes outside of Dyersburg, but with it storming as bad as it is, it’s probably going to be closer to forty-five minutes, maybe even an hour, before I make it to the hospital.”
“Do you know what’s wrong with Francesca?” asked Jones.
“No, only that she fainted earlier today. When she was taken to the hospital, they admitted her.” Stiles had never revealed to Jones that Francesca was HIV-positive. As far as Stiles knew, there weren’t many people who did know. Another clap of thunder and a zigzagging flash of lightning rocked the car. “Whoa,” Stiles yelled as he watched the bright display. “Look, just keep a check on Detria for me. I’ll call you when I can. This storm isn’t playing. I need to let you go, man. I need to concentrate.”
“Okay. We’ll be praying for you, Pastor Graham,” said Jones as he switched to Stiles’s pastoral tag.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. See ya.” Stiles ended the call and put his full focus back on the highway.
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